


Of All the Gin Joints

by Chibiness87



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Introspection, Oh well., This was supposed to be fluff!!, episode tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Summary: she should be used to this by now.Or: five times Samantha Carter was jealous… of herself.





	Of All the Gin Joints

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This… was supposed to be fun. A little light relief. It came out as angst. Um… yeah, sorry about that.

**Of all the Gin Joints** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing:** Sam/Jack. Kinda.  
**Season/Spoilers:** Everything up to 4.10 Beneath the Surface  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine

* * *

**1)**

Looking at her counterpart, she’s not sure what she’s supposed to feel. Anger? Disgust? Pity? The robot before her looks like her and thinks like her and has her memories, and all she can feel is jealously. Because there is something else this robot has that she doesn’t: freedom.

Not of the world, but of the rules she has had to live her life by. The rules she swore to uphold, even if sometimes she doesn’t believe in them. But to give up the rules would be to give up the Stargate, and she’s fought too hard to be allowed onto this program to give up now. She doesn’t say it to her colonel, but if the robot her has her consciousness, it’s only a matter of time until she comes up with a way to explore the worlds in a way she can only imagine.

She’s not holding much stock in their promise of them burying the gate either; after all, she knows what she would do in their place.

And while she’s not exactly advertising this to the rest of her team, she’s pretty sure Colonel O’Neill, at the very least, is having similar thoughts. Especially when it is him, and not her, that manages to persuade the general not to send a bomb.

She wonders how long it’ll be until they’ll all meet each other again. Because something tells her this is not the last they have seen of their robot counterparts.

She wonders, given the nature of her work and the rules she has to obey, who’ll be the more human out of the two of them when that time comes.

* * *

**2)**

“You two were engaged.”

“Excuse me?” The colonel raises an eyebrow. Wags his fingers between them. “Engaged?”

There’s something in his tone she can’t quite grasp. But it rankles her anyway. “It _is_ theoretically possible.”

“It’s against regulations.”

The something takes shape. Settles in her gut. And oh. _Oh_. He’s saying it like it’s _obvious_. Like it’s a _reason_. Like if she wasn’t in his direct command chain, they would be together.

It’s heady. Thrilling. Totally mind boggling and bewildering. Because while she might, maybe, have a small crush on her commanding officer, possibly, she never thought he would see her like that. Would never have thought he would want to. Especially given when she all but threw herself at him under the influence of nothing more than her most basal, primal instinct, he had not pushed her against the wall and ravaged her for all he was worth, but had instead carted her off to Janet.

That sort of thing tends to dissuade a girl.

Their near death in the frozen planes of Antarctica is still fresh in her mind too. Along to his call to his ex-wife. Even on the brink of death, it was not her name he had uttered.

She must be reading too much into this situation.

Must be.

Because guys like him do not fall for girls like her.

High school taught her many things, but the attitude of boys was one of the mightiest lessons learned.

Heck, she can’t even blame this one on her father; her CO has no idea what position her dad currently holds.

She would have heard about it by now.

The grapevine still has her sleeping her way to her current position of XO of the flagship team. There’s no mention of her dad pulling strings. Not that he has clearance, but the rumour mill never seems to care for such things.

She wonders what the rumour mill will do now they are, apparently, together in another alternative universe.

She wonders what it says about her that her main focus thus far has been on the other Samantha Carter’s relationship than with the threat of invasion Daniel is still going on about.

She wonders how many more versions of herself she will have to encounter over the years.

* * *

**3)**

Really, she should be used to this by now.

By her reckoning, this is the third different incarnation of another self she has encountered, and all of them have had something of a more personal relationship with one Jonathon “Jack” O’Neill (with two L’s) than she currently has with hers.

So of course this Samantha carter is in fact Samantha O’Neill. Of course she is.

(She doesn’t like to brag that, of all the incarnations she has met, death has floated around the corner for one or both of them. She’s not that petty.)

But still.

Three incarnations.

Three relationships.

She’s allowed to feel slightly miffed by this point, surely?

* * *

**4)**

He’s nervous.

Fidgeting.

Not that she can really use his restless hands as a gauge; he’s constantly playing with something. Some alien artefact. A new invention. A yo-yo.

But there is something… off about him this time. Something she can’t quite work out. He’s been like this for almost a week now, ever since the truth came out about the three months plus they’ve been stuck in limbo, reliving the same ten hours over and over and over again.

She wonders what she’s done to make him act like this around her. Wonders if she can point out that, given she can’t even remember whatever it is, he really shouldn’t be allowed to hold it against…

“Ikissedyou.”

It takes her a moment to work out the quiet mumble, but when she does, all she can do is let out a soft, “Oh.”

Oh. Well. That explains that. Her legs feel useless, and she sinks into the chair behind her with a soft thump.

He bites his lip. Glances at her out of the corner of his eye, before back down to his hands.

Still not looking at her, he says, “I’m not sorry.”

Suddenly, she feels angry. Hurt.

Jealous.

She feels jealous, and how ridiculous is that, because this time she isn't even jealous of another version of her, but simply of one she doesn’t remember.

He’ll kiss her when there’s no consequences, when it doesn’t matter, doesn’t count, and she can’t even get mad at him because she doesn’t remember it.

And he’s not sorry, which means she must have known, must have acted, must have _kissed him back_. “Oh.”

“Carter…”

She shakes her head. Quietly, not looking at him, she says, “I would like you to leave, please.”

“Sam… I…”

She hears him take a step towards her. There is something in his tone, begging to be heard, but she can’t do this right now. Biting back the lump in her throat by sheer force of will, she shakes her head. “Please, sir.” She can’t look at him. She _can’t_. Not when he _knows._ “Please.”

He drops whatever he was playing with back to her desk. Silently, he moves to her door. Hesitating for a moment, he cranes his head so she can see him in profile. “I resigned first, if that makes it any better.”

It does. But it also doesn’t.

She still can’t remember it.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him nod, before heading into the hallway.

It is only when she is certain she is alone that she lets the tears fall.

* * *

**5)**

She remembers kissing him this time, and wishes with everything in her that she doesn’t. Because she knows what it feels like now. Knows what he tastes like, sounds like. Knows how he feels, hard and pressed against her thigh while they grab stolen moments in the dark corners by the furnaces. Her one saving grace is that it didn’t go further than a kiss (or two or ten). They may have slept together, but they didn’t sleep together. At least they didn’t cross _that_ line.

Because it can’t happen again.

As much as she wants to, as much as she aches to, she can’t, _they_ can’t. They agreed to leave this… thing, this attraction, this _desire_ locked in a room. The job is more important than they are. The _world_ is more important than they are.

But for all that, one word, three little letters, and she might as well be stood behind that forcefield once more. Standing no more than a foot apart, seeing him realise his world is right there, right in front of him, and completely out of reach.

She goes home alone. Sleeps in a bed she’s only just remembering, feeling cold without the constant heat of the furnaces there to warm her.

Without the heat of his body to warm her.

Thera misses Jonah with an ache that’s bone deep, but Sam cannot miss Jack.

It’s against regulations.

* * *

End

Thoughts?


End file.
